Obsession in Silk and Blood (LingOrm GP!)

Chapter 1: The First Touch

The club pulsed like a living heart-red lights throbbed against the walls, shadows flickered across gyrating bodies, and the scent of sweat, perfume, and lust hung thick in the air. It was exactly the kind of place Orm Kornnaphat tried to avoid these days. Too much temptation. Too much danger. Too many reminders that her desires were a cage she couldn't break out of.

But tonight wasn't about avoiding things. Tonight was about surrender.

Orm moved through the crowd with feline grace, her long legs dressed in black leather, her crimson dress slinking over every curve. Eyes followed her, as they always did. Women wanted her. Men envied her. But none of them knew her. None of them could touch her where it mattered. She'd had dozens-more than she cared to count. All of them failed to satisfy her. All of them felt... empty.

She took a seat at a velvet-lined booth close to the stage. A blonde waitress gave her a knowing smile, handed her a dirty martini, and whispered, "You came on the right night."

Om raised a brow. "Why's that?"

The waitress just smirked. "She's dancing tonight."

"She?"

"You'll see."

The lights dimmed. The music shifted. A low, growling bass filled the room, followed by a slow, sinful beat that made Orm's spine tingle. A single spotlight beamed down on the stage.

Then she stepped into the light.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Muscles coiled under tight black slacks. No shirt. Just sweat-slicked skin, tattoos that wound like secrets across her chest and arms, and a slow, predatory smirk. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd like a queen surveying her prey.

She didn't dance like the others. She moved with lethal grace, like a panther ready to strike. Every thrust of her hips, every glide of her hands down her own torso, was calculated seduction. And when her gaze locked on Orm-when she saw her sitting there, legs crossed, lips parted-she smiled like she knew exactly who she was.

Like she had been waiting for her.

Orm couldn't look away. Her heart pounded. Her thighs clenched. Her breath caught.

This wasn't normal. No one made her feel this way. Not after just one look.

Ling danced like a woman possessed. She peeled her slacks down just enough to tease. The crowd roared, bills flew, but she only had eyes for her. When she walked to the edge of the stage and knelt in front of Orm, her world tilted.

She leaned in.

"Come backstage after the show," Ling whispered.

Her voice was silk wrapped around steel.

Orm blinked, stunned. "Why?"

Ling grinned, devilish. "Because I felt you the moment I walked out. And I don't let go of things that belong to me."

Then ling was gone, swallowed by the music and the lights.

Orm sat frozen, the drink untouched in her hand.

She didn't know her name.

But she already knew: she was going to let Ling ruin her.

And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

---
Backstage smelled like cologne, sweat, and leather-intixicating, feminine, primal. The door shut behind Orm with a heavy thud that echoed louder than her heartbeat. She hadn't hesitated. She didn't even wait for her martini to warm. She walked straight through the crowd, past the velvet rope, ignoring the surprised glances from the bouncers.